


Double or Nothing

by PastelKitten



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Best Friends, But also they kinda love each other, Creampie, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Oral Sex, PWP, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6962308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelKitten/pseuds/PastelKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite everything, there's a lot of good in the world. For two Railroad agents, some of that good is each other.</p><p>Well, that and pointless gambling for minuscule amounts of caps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double or Nothing

  “Bet you twenty caps I can hit that Super Mutant's nuke from here.” Though she had a bandanna covering the bottom half of her face, Deacon somehow just knew Whisper had to be grinning. His lips curled into a smirk as he responded.

“So what you're saying is, you want me to pay you twenty caps for something we both know you can do?” It was a late, sunny afternoon in the Commonwealth. The two of them were high up, atop the roof of some sort of skyscraper. It had been an office building once, judging by all the cubicles inside, but these days it was good for little else but hiding out and serving as a sniper's vantage point. It was one of those lazy moments, their mission having been completed earlier in the day and nothing else on the roster 'til they got their next assignment from HQ. He'd almost call the atmosphere relaxed. As relaxed as one could be as they gazed down at a pack of super mutants.

“Mm-hmm. In one shot. Call it an incentive not to miss.”

“Ten caps,” he said. It was always smart to haggle when you made a bet with her. The two of them probably exchanged their entire caps stash at least once a week. Whisper made bets about anything and everything, and Deacon found her particular way of entertaining herself charming enough that he rarely refused. Trouble was, she almost never made a bet she wasn't fairly sure she could win. He'd be at risk of losing every cap he had if she ever learned to not overestimate herself.

“Fifteen, and I'll do it while he's not standing still.” He nodded in agreement, fishing the fifteen caps from his pockets and dropping them in a pile. She did the same, though he knew it was more of a formality than anything else. Whisper waited for the suicider to start his patrol, pacing up the street and then back down it, the muzzle of her rifle trailing him the whole way. He heard her suck in a small breath. His eyes traced over her body, watching it go rigid under the fabric of her shirt. (Her usual overcoat had been tossed off to the side, since it was a little warm for it all the way up here.) Her finger itched against the trigger as she lined up the shot, and finally she pulled back. The bullet went flying from the barrel, making only the softest of noises as it did. A split second later, and there was a crater in the middle of the street where the mutant used to be.

Whisper laughed softly. She at least had the decency to pick off the others as they ran over to investigate before pulling the pile of caps towards herself and stuffing them down into her pack. She looked over at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling just slightly as they always did when she grinned real wide. This close to her, he could see her blue eyes shining in delight behind the smoky lenses of her sunglasses.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Wipe that shit eating grin off your face. I can rig bets too.”

“I didn't rig the bet, Deacon. You're just garbage at picking which ones to take. I could say 'hey, Deacon, bet you fifty caps I can get Dogmeat to bark' and all you'd try to do is haggle me down to thirty.” She pushed herself up to her feet, taking a moment to crack her joints and stretch before she started to gather her things so they could head back down to street level and carry on. “Y'know what would be a good bet?” She asked. “If I got my power armor from Sanctuary – how many raiders do you think I could make piss themselves if I jumped down from one of these buildings and landed in front of them? I bet a hundred and forty caps it'd be at least half the group.”

He chuckled. “You think? I mean, personally I'd consider a thousand-pound heap of metal falling from the sky prepared to rain hot, fiery death upon me to be a pleasant, calming experience.” She snorted. “Gotta admit, you're pretty terrifying in that thing.” His tone was unmistakably one of admiration, and she couldn't help the way it made her grin.

“More so than your average power-armor-wearing wastelander?” She asked, tone playful. “It's the paintjob, right? Flames make _everything_ cooler.”

“Definitely. That's not it though. I think it's more because I've seen you shoot a deathclaw in the face with a missile launcher when _not_ in the armor. Just... Glad you're on our side, buddy,” he said, flinging an arm casually around her shoulders.

“Aww, aren't you being sweet today? You know I wouldn't have it any other way.” Their conversation ended at that point, because she bet him five caps she could beat him down all the flights of stairs. When they finished, they were both too out of breath to talk. And once they'd stopped wheezing, he was too busy gloating about beating her to pick up where they'd left off.

The unfortunate part was that the morning's assignment was a pretty decent ways away from HQ, so they wouldn't be making it back there in the same night even if they wanted to. And neither of them wanted to. It was late. They were tired. Whisper said she was making an 'executive decision' that they were going to camp out for the night. She pointed to a half-ruined building that she thought would provide decent enough cover.

When Deacon thought about Whisper, he liked to think of all the things that had made her so suited to life in the Commonwealth. She could coax just about any lock open with nothing but a bobby pin, she was quiet as a mouse when she wanted to be, and she had a tongue that had to be made of pure fucking silver with all the situations she'd talked her way out of. She did have this thing she believed though, which he was completely sure was going to be what got her killed. 'If we get into a situation where we're fucked, all we have to do is get _unfucked_.' Being a daring optimist in the wake of nuclear war was charming in its way, but probably not great for her health.

“Not exactly five stars. Sure we shouldn't just keep moving? I'm not sure I like the idea of rolling over in the morning and seeing a feral next to me.” He'd slept worse places, but this place reeked of trouble. “Talk about awkward, huh?”

“No, listen, it'll be fine. Just a quick pit stop to get our energy back. Couple hours at most. C'mon, Deeks, I can't shoot straight if I'm tired. Nothings gonna happen. And even if it does, what's the big deal? No problem for the two best agents the Railroad's got, right?” She nudged him playfully in the ribs, and there was little he could do but huff and grin and nod in agreement.

She led the charge into their chosen rest stop, though it was less of a charge and more of a slow and cautious creep into the shadowy interior of the building. It was a shop of some sort, maybe. The missing walls made it a little hard to tell. He still didn't like this much, but the sight of a very solid looking door still standing behind the counter gave him hope. “Yo, boss, what about in there?” He suggested, nodding towards the doorway. “Safer than being out in the open.”

Things never really wanted to work out for them though, apparently, because the room wasn't exactly the spacious office they'd been picturing. No, it was puny enough that the old desk took up at least half of it. Whisper had the idea to push it up against the door to give them a little security barricade, since it swung inwards, and that worked great and all. It just left them with very little space to sleep.

“Looks more like a repurposed storeroom than an actual office,” she said. The safe inlaid in the wall caught her eye, and he watched with interest as she worked her magic and managed to make it come around to the idea of being unlocked. “Just a bunch of pre-war money,” she said, sounding disappointed but not surprised. She glowered at the sight, but gathered a stack of bills in her hand anyway and turned to him. He'd settled himself on the raggedy carpeted floor in the time it took her to open the safe, back against the wall and legs out in front of him. “I still get all excited when I see money like this just laying around,” she said, flicking a few bills towards him as she spoke. They fluttered to the ground around him, and he met the action with a bemused smirk. “It's _so_ much money, Deacon. I just threw like a thousand dollars at you. When I was in college, I'd have killed a man for that much money to get randomly thrown at me. Do you know how much law school cost me? Fuckin' wasted out here. 'I have a law degree!' I yell as I'm being chased by a group of raiders. 'We don't know what that means!' They call back. 'It's been two hundred years since anyone needed a lawyer, idiot!' That's some bullshit. I was in school for seven years.”

Whisper threw her coat down in the empty space beside him and flopped down atop it. This was a little snug, he decided, but not undoable. Probably be more annoying if he minded being close to her. “What happened to being tired?” He asked as she pulled her red bandanna down to hang from her neck and tossed her hat into the corner.

“Mm, nothin',” she said, leaning against him so her back was half on his chest. He liked seeing the way her lips quirked upwards when he slid an arm around her waist and tugged her closer. “Is that what we're doing tonight?” She asked. Her sunglasses had slid down to the tip of her nose, eyes mostly visible as she gazed up from under her lashes.

“Not if you wanna sleep.” She shifted back, sliding over to sit between his thighs, making it obvious that sleep was quite suddenly the second thing on her mind. He rested his chin on the much shorter agent's head, pressing a light kiss against her dark hair while his fingers started to toy with the buttons on her shirt.

“Nah. For some reason I'm suddenly feeling much more awake.” Her fingers brushed over the nape of his neck, sliding up to the back of his head and pulling him down so she could kiss him properly. “It's just uncanny. How irresistibly attractive you are. I can feel myself being seduced. Your charms are just too much. I'm swooning. Here I go.” She sank down to the side, out of his arms, and laid the back of her hand against her forehead almost sarcastically. The two of them burst into laughter together, and he followed her to the floor. Arms resting on either side of her head, he leaned over her, pressing his face to the crook of her neck and smothering her in kisses across her throat and face.

There were few silent moments between them. This was one of them. The quiet was comfortable, his arms curling under her back to hold her close. He inhaled deeply, breathing her in, savoring this moment of serenity with nothing on his mind but the girl in his arms.

“You're the best,” she murmured to him. It was the closest she ever got to 'I love you', and that suited him just fine. Neither of them wanted to fuck this up with 'I love you's. She was his best friend, his partner, and yes, maybe every once in a while the two of them got a little wrapped up in each other. There was no harm in it. It was just a little bit of fun.

“High praise, considering who I'm looking at right now,” he said softly in return. Whisper laughed, and Deacon grinned because goddamn if that wasn't the greatest noise he'd ever heard. He released her and sat back on his ankles, putting his hands to quick use so he could get back to holding her. Clever fingers quickly tugged down her suspenders and slid all the buttons on her shirt open so he could pull it apart and let his eyes drink in the sight. He didn't bother trying to unclasp her bra just yet, instead opting just to slide his hands under the cups and push it up over her breasts.

Whisper was pre-war gorgeous. Her smooth, pale skin was dotted with freckles from the sun, mostly free from scars and damage. While she was overall a fairly svelte woman, and though her time in the wasteland had hardened her muscles, she still had this gentle curve to her hips and the rise of her chest. Her breasts suited her thin frame, a couple of small handfuls topped in pale pink. Even her imperfections seemed perfect. The dusky stretch marks along the lower part of her belly, the silvery scar below her ribs where a raider's knife went in deep, the still-healing wound on her side where a bullet had gotten lodged and she'd had to dig it out...

For a long moment, he simply stared through his shades, just admiring her. She smiled up at him from where she lay against her longcoat, her short hair a dark halo around her head. He knew she liked it when he stared.

He tore his eyes away from her body to meet her gaze with another grin, hands skimming up her stomach to cup her breasts. “What makes me think we're going to end up here longer than we thought?” He asked teasingly.

“Couldn't possibly imagine,” she said, arching her back into his touch when he rolled one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He gave the other the same treatment, gently twisting and pinching just to make her squirm until he leaned down and wrapped his lips around one. His now free hand crept immediately downward, beginning to tease her through the fabric of her trousers. He trailed his kisses to the side, sucking a hickey onto her sternum before switching hands as he moved his mouth to her other nipple.

Whisper was unsure what effect being a person-sicle for 200 years might have had on her body, but the way it lit up in response to his touch made her sure her nerves, at least, hadn’t been damaged. She could feel herself growing ever warmer, nipples pebbling under his attentions, a tight heat beginning to pool in the pit of her belly. She busied herself with toeing off her shoes while he dragged his lips down across her stomach, and she sat up once they were gone and he’d made it to the waistband of her pants.

“Here, roll over,” she said, nudging him over as she slid back to push her pants down. With a grin, her partner obliged, rolling over to allow her on top. She discarded her trousers, tossing her panties off right after them, though she didn’t bother with her socks or any of the clothing still tangled around her upper body. She was much too concerned with crawling over to him and moving to straddle his face. “You look so good between my legs,” she purred to him, leaning forward to brace her hands against the wall. He grasped her thighs, tight, fingers pressing into her soft skin and pulling her down so his lips could meet her skin in a kiss.

He savored the taste of her on his tongue, heady and head-spinningly delicious. His tongue, so used to curling around honeyed words and extravagant lies, pressed up desperately to taste her. He drank her in like he’d wandered the desert for a dozen days and had found an oasis between her thighs, urgent and hungry. She showed her appreciation for his eagerness by way of rocking hips and moans of his name. For him, there was no sweeter reward than that.

He worked, quick and clever, starting with long strokes from bottom to top. He slowly licked his way upwards, lips wrapping around her clit and pulling a groan from her throat. One of those hands grasping her thighs moved back, rubbing briefly over the curve of her rear, then sliding forward to join his mouth, fingers circling experimentally around her entrance. “God you taste good,” he said, voice rumbling against her and making her shiver. He pressed into her then, two fingers to start and open her up. She met the action with a whine, nails scratching slightly against the wall as her hands curled into fists. From this position, he didn’t have a very good view of her face, but he didn’t need one. He’d seen it enough times to picture it just as well: head tilted back, chest rising with panting breaths, pink lips parted just so. He imagined the line of her throat, silently begging for him to lean forward and bite a bruise onto that soft skin. He could see her eyes closed, dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks. In his mind, she was ethereally beautiful, and when he peered up at her the reality lived up to every expectation. God fucking _damn_ , if she wasn’t perfect. “How’s it feel?” He asked, if only to hear her voice.

“ _So_ goddamn _goooood_ ,” she moaned, hips pressing down against his mouth as if for emphasis. He wriggled a third finger in next to the first two, crooking them into her, searching for her sweet spot and grinning at the way she keened when he found it. “Why’s your tongue so fucking perfect? _Shit_ , Deacon, I’m so close, don’t you dare stop, I’m so close, I’m gonna cum, fuck, Deacon, please!” He adored the senseless babbling she’d do when she was teetering on the edge of finish. Whisper was a talker. It only seemed right she’d announce her pleasure in the most verbal way possible, but as she got nearer and nearer her lips just kept moving without much worry what was coming through them, chattering and begging and demanding, and Deacon knew his partner had finally cum when she went tense and silent above him. The deafening quiet lasted only the smallest of moments, before she was shoving a hand tightly over her mouth to swallow up the loud cry that came with her release. He thought momentarily of the times when they didn’t feel an obligation to silence, and of the noises she made that were music to his ears. Another time, he thought, when they weren’t jammed in some shitty little office at risk of getting caught, quite literally, with their pants down.

He turned his head, pressing soft kisses to her thighs, continuing to crook his fingers to bring her gently down from her finish. Gradually, slowly, her muscles stopped twitching and her hips stopped rolling, and he pulled his fingers out of her. Then he wriggled out from underneath her, sitting up to pull his clothes off while she remained panting, still sitting on her knees and braced against the wall. Starting at her lower back, his lips painted a trail of little kisses all the way up to the nape of her neck. He pressed his chest against her back and wrapped an arm around her middle, holding her tight.

“Round two?” She asked, turning her head to grin shakily at him from over her shoulder.

“I aim to please,” he said, nuzzling his face against her shoulder. His hips were pressed flush against her ass, neglected length painfully hard as he slid it between her legs. Her breath, just starting to even out, picked up again as he ran it along her, slicking himself up. “Ready?”

“Mm-hmm.” He nipped at her throat as his hips pulled back, one hand coming down to steady himself so he could begin to slide slowly inside of her. The stretch of him was familiar by now, but just as good as it had been during their first time together. “Hey,” she said in a sudden moment of brilliant inspiration. “Bet you five caps I last longer than you do.” She felt him shake with laughter against her back, lips pressing affectionately beneath her ear.

“Hope you’re ready to lose, partner.” His hand skimmed down beneath her belly and pressed between her legs to touch and tease as he started to rock his hips inside of her. She wanted to call him a cheater for that, but instead she just sighed and moaned and tilted her head back to catch him in a kiss.

He fucked her slowly, hips rolling in smooth, unhurried movements. Slow, but hard, he went in deep every time and filled her to the brim. Neither of them spoke, the only noises in the closed in room their panting breaths and skin-against-skin when he pressed inside. This was heaven, she thought to herself. This was their little paradise in the middle of the post-apocalypse. God, she could have stayed with him like this forever. The hand not busy rolling and rubbing her clit pushed lightly at the middle of her back, urging her to arch it for a better angle. Her nails scraped against the peeling paint on the wall as her hands balled up, and her teeth dug harshly into her bottom lip in reaction to the added pleasure of him rubbing over that sweet spot.

She could feel another finish riding in on the coattails of the first one, quicker this time. She wanted to come apart, but instead she bit down harder on her lip and held it together. She was nothing if not determined. Particularly to win back those five caps she’d lost earlier in the day. The hand on her back skimmed upwards to palm her breast, pulling her up so her back was flush against his chest as he rocked into her, faster now.

“C’mon,” he breathed. “You know you want to.” She scowled at the hint of laughter in his voice. She said nothing, until the hand on her breast slid even further upwards to cup her jaw, his thumb moving to gently tug her lip out from between her teeth.

“After you, I _insist_ ,” she said, hips meeting his thrusts despite herself. He kissed her, first at the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, beneath her ear, down to that point right at the top of her jugular that just made her muscles tense, ropes of pleasure tightening around her and threatening to snap. She really could have picked a better position, she mused. “I’d totally be winning if I was riding you instead.”

“Hindsight’s 20/20,” he grinned, punctuating the sentence with a particularly hard, particularly deep thrust that made her yelp in surprise. Knocking her off guard proved to be her undoing. She turned her head and kissed him, muffling the loudest of her cries in his mouth as tremors rippled through her. She felt his thrusts pick up speed in response, but only for a moment. He gripped her harder as he came, warmth spilling inside of her. She finally broke their kiss as they both began to come down, hips twitching for a moment before finally beginning to slow, eyes closed as they slumped together in a heap.

He laid back so he wouldn’t squish her, and she moved her hips to let him slip out of her before rolling off to lay next to him on the thinly carpeted floor. There was a brief moment of quiet before she felt his hand slap lightly against her stomach, open palm upturned.

“Pay up.” She rolled her eyes and shoved it off of her so she could shift up to her knees and drag her bag over to her to fetch the promised caps and drop them into his hand. She started to pull her clothes back on and tidy herself up, in case they had to head out without much warning.

“Hey, Deacon?”

“What’s up?”

“Tomorrow night? Double or nothing, and _I_ get to be on top.”

“You’re on.”

**Author's Note:**

> i take commissions! contact me @ strikecommandergabriel.tumblr.com or @CharlieAsh on twitter! or, if you want, you can buy me a coffee! ko-fi.com/charlieash


End file.
